by Kara Greenan
Anger, London can handle - anger towards Sebastian, that he’s good at. He’s had lots of practice. Trying to control his breathing, he turns and stomps down the hall again. He hears Amelia in his ear, even Frankie's mumbled command to stop. But he doesn't.
"Badger game, then," Frankie says. “Amelia, get ready. London, give her your camera."
London pulls out his phone and opens the camera. He’s so ready. Fuck, Sebastian deciding to do his own thing has really fucked them over. What's more, his com has been silent ever since half way through the party downstairs. That doesn't stop Frankie, who launches into an explanation of how this is going to go down.
"He's not wearing his com," London hisses.
Frankie stops. "You can't know for sure. He could just not be talking."
And then she continues her explanation, like they haven't all known this particular con since starting their career. Hell, you don't even have to be a proper con artist to pull it off.
London knows Sebastian can't hear them. He never shuts up, not during sex, and not in the time leading up to it. He thinks it best not to share that with the others right now, though. He contemplates barging in, pulling Sebastian off Sonya, maybe punching him for being such a dick. That would be rash though. And apparently Sebastian holds the monopoly on rash behavior today.
"Where the hell are you?" he says, trying to keep his voice low. Speaking while wearing nothing but an earpiece is bad enough. He misses the comfort of talking into a phone. But maybe it covers the slight whine in his voice, too.
"Calm your tits." The voice comes both over the little contraption in his ear as well as from around the corner. Amelia appears a moment later, a vision in a black pencil skirt and some real fucking diamonds. She looks like a million bucks. At least someone has real style, London thinks grimly. He's had quite enough fakeness for one day.
Amelia gives him an unsubtle once over before raising a perfectly penciled in eyebrow.
"You look a right mess," she says in her raspy voice.
Despite himself, London tries standing up straighter, smoothing down his tie where he had been nervously crumpling it moments before.
"It's only been ten minutes."
"Fifteen," he says through clenched teeth, holding out a copy of the key card. He'd swiped it on the way up here – easy, because the entire hotel staff was trying to do their best to accommodate everyone's wishes. He gives her his phone. He impatiently motions for her to get a move on.
Amelia takes both. "I think fifteen minutes to come up with an entirely new spin on this isn't bad. Frankie must've at least considered Walker going rogue."
London can't do more than nod. He doesn't care why Sebastian did it or why Frankie so readily had a backup plan. Maybe calling it a backup plan is too generous, though, the badger game is the oldest con in the book. They came here to steal Sonya's diamonds as a practice run to the proper heist, and that's exactly what they'll do. Thanks to Sebastian's improvisation it will all go down louder than anticipated but that can't be helped now. London just wants Amelia to go in there already, play the cheated wife and extort Sonya before she gets her hands down Sebastian's pants.
As though reading his mind, Amelia smirks. She inspects the phone for a second. Her fingernails are painted a deep red and London has no doubt the colour is called something like Blood of My Enemies.
She takes a deep breath, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. "How do I look?"
"Sweet," London deadpans.
Her grin turns decidedly feral. She takes a deep breath, pressing the key card against the doorknob. The tiny light turns green and she pushes the heavy door open, striding in with confidence.
London leans his head against the hallway wall and grins as he hears her shriek. "What the fuck are you doing with my husband?"
There hadn’t been much for London to do after Amelia interrupted Sonya and Sebastian. They certainly didn’t need him to open the safe stealthily anymore. He heads downstairs and climbs into the back of their getaway van. It’s an old bread delivery vehicle that still has the bread on wheels logo on the sides. It’s been padded from floor to ceiling and the windows covered, allowing them to transport even large objects without being spotted. He sits on the floor. A trickle of sweat rolls down his spine because the fucking thing is apparently insulated to withstand Siberian winters. And there isn’t even a window to crack. Marvellous.
Frankie is up front in the driver's seat while Hale waits for Amelia. Finalising deals in a badger game takes time; no self-respecting con artist goes through with it only to fudge it at nailing down the actual blackmail.
The back door of the van opens, a welcome gust of cool air rolling over London's flushed cheeks.
Sebastian crawls inside, pulling the door closed behind him and thumping against the wall behind where Frankie is sitting. The van's engine starts.
"There's space up front," he snaps.
"It's better if I'm not seen with Frankie." Sebastian talks in his slow drawl, mouth slowly curving into a smile. London looks away. "Also, I like it in here."
"You like it sweaty, disgusting and smelling of bread?" London has to extend his hand against a cushioned wall when Frankie takes the first corner. "Why am I not surprised?"
Sebastian's dimples deepen and London tries hard not notice the state of his previously pristine suit. But his tie is missing and his shirt is unbuttoned to his navel, one piercing clearly visible. There's scratch marks down the centre of his chest. Not that London notices. Nope.
Sebastian shifts, cupping his crotch and rearranging his dick. London can't help his incredulous intake of breath.
"Are you hard?" And maybe it should be embarrassing how shrieky his voice is, but he's too indignant to care.
Sebastian shrugs. "A bit."
"She was ancient!" London splutters.
"She wasn't," Sebastian says defensively. "She was nice. Felt a bit bad, if I'm honest."
"You do know what her husband does, right? The money we're getting isn't even a fraction of what he’s made by cheating others."
"Yeah, I know." Sebastian shifts again when the van stops for a moment, pulling off again seconds later. "But she was nice."
London rolls his eyes so hard that for a moment he wonders if he possibly broke something from the strain.
"She’s well aware of his business dealings. Also, she was nice because she wanted to get in your pants." He points at the red marks on Sebastian's chest. "Or into your chest cavity. Hard to tell the difference."
Sebastian looks at his chest, and then slowly drags his eyes up London's body. "Maybe you should kiss it better."
London snorts, moving to the farthest corner. The move becomes decidedly ungraceful when Frankie takes another sharp corner and slams London face first into the cushioned floor, his arse sticking up.
Seconds later, he feels warm hands encircling his hips. "Or we can get right down to the fucking, if you prefer."
London gets his hands underneath his torso and twists away his lower half. There’s a shiver that shakes his body when the warmth from Sebastian's hands is wrenched away. He doesn't mind though. He doesn't want Sebastian's hands on him, and it's too damn hot in this van anyway.
"Dream on, Walker."
Sebastian pouts ridiculously, managing to look both like an overgrown toddler and a young gentleman of leisure, ready for debauchery.
Silence fills the enclosed space, London resolutely ignoring Sebastian's hand returning to his crotch. It's less a move of getting comfortable and more a stroking motion intended to relieve. London wipes sweat off his brow, the heat in the van stifling. He mentally strikes any sort of bread from his diet for the coming week, just on principle.
Suddenly, the van jerks sharply to the left and Sebastian careens into London's side. Before London can open his mouth to complain, he hears it.
Sirens.
The next moment Frankie accelerates, the momentum pressing London’s feet into the door.
"Do you," Sebastian
starts and licks his lips. "Do you think that's for us?"
London mostly ignores the thrill that shoots through him at that thought. "I know what you're doing, Walker."
Sebastian leans in, warm hand cupping the side of London's face. Frankie is still taking corners at a breakneck pace and it's causing them to wobble back and forth. It should be comical, laughable. Instead the air between them crackles with electricity and London's lips tingle from where Sebastian keeps dropping his gaze, the side of his face burning where Sebastian's hand rests. The confident smirk from earlier in the night is gone, as is the cutely dimpled one. It's replaced with red-bitten lips and glassy eyes, a desperation to them that shoots a frisson of familiar want up London's spine.
They're flung sideways again, but their eye contact never breaks.
Sebastian licks his lips again, gaze dropping to London's mouth.
"Please," Sebastian murmurs.
And they're too close, too intimate, their breath mingling in the tiny space left between them.
And fuck it, London thinks, before closing the gap.
Sebastian's groan vibrates against his lips and London presses in closer, fingers curling around the expensive lapels of Sebastian's suit. Right off the bat, the kiss is heated and dirty, Sebastian's tongue pushing into his mouth insistently. London lets him, sucks on it as punishment instead.
London knows Sebastian can move quickly, especially when it comes to undressing himself, but he's still impressed when his fingers encounter smooth skin, the tiny bump of the barbell piercing through Sebastian's left nipple a welcome distraction from the smooth, inked torso.
London leans down and takes his other nipple between his lips, teeth worrying that piercing, too. Sebastian's hands falter from where he's pushing down his trousers and pants, cock springing free but his hands returning to London's head, holding him in place.
That won't do, not at all. London pulls back slowly, barbell still between his teeth.
"Fuck," Sebastian moans, free hand squeezing around the base of his dick.
Another quickly-taken corner and London tumbles to his back, pouting at the loss of the nipple. He's quickly appeased though, when Sebastian kneels next to his head and leans forward to unbutton London's trousers. It brings his scratched chest right up to face level. London wastes no time in attacking the red marks with his teeth and lips, sucking bruises into them.
By the time Sebastian's chest no longer looks like he was attacked by something with sharp claws, and more like something with suction cups, Sebastian has completely removed London's clothes from the waist down. They make quite the pair, with Sebastian's top half bare, dick jutting out between hastily unbuttoned trousers and shoved down pants, gorgeously long and hard.
Sebastian shifts them into a proper sixty-nine position, London still flat on his back and Sebastian propped up above him. Sebastian guides the tip of his dick to London lips, sighing when London greedily obliges and lets him slide in over his tongue. Sebastian is pretty big and London has to concentrate, actively pushing down his gag reflex when he pulses close to his throat. He can't help it though, splutters and pushes Sebastian's hips off.
"Don't –" Sebastian says gruffly and catches both his wrists between his larger hands, pinning them down. He looks ridiculous like this, upside down and flushed, but London can’t bring himself to mock him right now. It might have something to do with the heavy cock bobbing mere inches above his face.
He twists his wrists but Sebastian's grip just tightens, grinding them down into the padded floor of the van.
"No," Sebastian says, voice raspy and deep. "No, please. Let me – I'll do that thing you like if you let me. Please."
"You like that thing I like."
Sebastian doesn't deny it. He can be a right arsehole but he's always wonderfully polite during sex – incoherent, sure, but unerringly polite when he strong-arms London into sexual favours.
London smiles, struggling because it's hot when Sebastian tightens his grip yet again, leans more weight onto London's wrists and grunts at the effort of holding him still.
"Fine," London agrees, tilting his head back so Sebastian's cock can slide into his mouth more easily.
He doesn't do what they're about to do all that often, and even less with someone of Sebastian's admittedly impressive size, but he knows he can, and this position is conveniently best for it. He makes a mental note to nick Sebastian's watch later anyway, as he strongly suspects Sebastian planned it like this.
He licks his dry lips, getting them moist before he relaxes his jaw and lets Sebastian feed him his cock. Sebastian’s hips thrust shallowly, pulling out before hitting the back of his throat. The soft movement of his hips doesn't waver when he leans down and slips his hands under London's bum. His fingers spread London’s arse, tilting his hips forward. He completely forgoes London's cock and goes straight for his hole, giving it one good hard lick.
London groans, thighs tightening around Sebastian's head. He pulls his legs in closer, a wordless plea for more. It aches when Sebastian clutches him tighter, digging his fingers into the softness of his bum. As payback, he hollows his cheeks and sucks until Sebastian groans.
"Can I? Like, all the way?" Sebastian asks and kisses the inside of his thigh. London can't see him, not with Sebastian's cock in his mouth and his head angled backwards. He hums his agreement instead, pleased when Sebastian's smooth rhythm stutters.
London clears his mind and relaxes his throat. It's not like he doesn't have a gag reflex, but as with many things, he's taught himself to suppress the uncomfortable feeling. So when Sebastian pushes in again, slow and steady and without stopping, London closes his eyes and swallows.
Sebastian slips in deeper, all the way.
Not giving in to his impulse to gag is taking up most of his energy, but London still feels a smug sort of satisfaction when Sebastian starts rambling, forehead pressed to London's thigh, hot breath wafting over London's aching dick.
"Fuck you're – that's so fucking amazing, you have no idea."
Sebastian pulls back, just in time. London is choking and coughing the moment his throat is empty again. It only prompts another expletive from Sebastian's mouth. He slides his long fingers over London's throat, leaving them there when he pushes his dick back in.
"You're the only one who's ever let me do this and fuck if it isn't the most amazing thing. Take my cock so well, got no problem with it, do you?"
London can't retort, and it probably wouldn’t be too flattering if he could. But he can hum, causing his entire throat to vibrate and for Sebastian to groan above him, biting the inside of London's thigh in retaliation.
There are tears in London's eyes from the effort of not choking, but it gets easier each time. Sebastian quickly builds a dirty, hard rhythm that has him clutching at Sebastian's hips, clawing the skin there and pulling him in, wanting him all the way, wanting to be the one to do this for him. And when Sebastian's mouth goes back to rimming him, London loses all sense of coordination. It's just a constant repeat of Sebastian pushing into his throat and into his arse and it's mostly Sebastian's moans and eager fingering of London's hole that get him this bothered, to the point where London could come with a single stroke.
Sebastian leans up, probably to see, and his thrusts go from deep and hard to sloppy and erratic.
"I'm going – I'm going to. Can I?"
London wants it. He wants it all, or at least whatever Sebastian is offering. He wants to see him lose it just from thrusting into London's throat for three minutes, like a fourteen-year-old getting head for the first time.
Sebastian tenses above him, and London can feel him pulse as he comes, feels him press in deep for several seconds until London can’t hold his breath anymore and pushes against Sebastian's hips. Sebastian grinds down deeper before pulling out, cock wet and still mostly hard.
London contemplates teasing him, sucking him back down even though he's too sensitive, when Sebastian's tongue is back on his arse. Two fingers join, p
ushing deep. The ease with which Sebastian finds all the best spots should probably bother him more but in the end the pleasure shooting up his spine is just too much. Rubbing in hard little circles, Sebastian takes London's dick in his mouth and sucks hard.
There's an undignified noise clawing its way out of London's throat and he closes his teeth around the nearest thing to his mouth, which happens to be Sebastian's inner thigh. Sebastian jerks in pain but doesn't stop, and London ruts into him once, twice, before grinding down on Sebastian's fingers and coming so hard that he almost blacks out.
They're both sticky from the heat and the exertion when Sebastian flops down next to him, but London is feeling far too good to move. He leaves his arm next to Sebastian's and listens to his erratic breaths. There's sweat running down his temple and pooling in his belly button. His dick tingles from where Sebastian's spit is drying on it and London doesn't care, he closes his eyes and lets a small smile play on his lips.
Sebastian props himself up on one arm and looks at him.
"What?" London croaks, squinting one eye open.
There are deep red blotches on Sebastian's cheeks and his hair is sticking to the side of his head in a sweaty mess. London reaches up one hand and touches the redness of Sebastian's lips. They are dry but plush as always and London indulges himself, traces them once more. He drops his hand to his chest when he notices Sebastian holding his breath.
"Good?" Sebastian asks.
London studies him for a moment before nodding his head slowly.
"Not going to talk? I love it when you talk after."
London rolls his eyes. "You just like to hear how scratchy my voice is after you’ve shoved your dick down my throat."
"I do," Sebastian confirms with a slight smile, fingers softly tracing down London's throat. "It wasn't too, um? It wasn't too much?"